Always for You
by chocolatecheesecakes
Summary: Norway had been a viking, once upon a time, so surely it wouldn't be heard just to tell Canada how he felt? No, it would be easy. He had pillaged countless villages back then, confessing feelings would feel like a breeze! And after that, it was all going to be blissfully simple... No drama at all. None. Well, maybe a little, but he'd try to keep it to a minimum.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a short little story, mainly because there is a saddening lack of good NorCan fanfiction around here. Or anywhere. Again, I am back to shipping rare ships.**

 **As always, I hope you enjoy this and please let me know if you would like me to continue.**

Norway was in love with Canada.

That thought was swallowing the Nordic whole, eating him from the inside out. He could barely keep his eyes off the young nation today, his thoughts more on the curve of Canada's lips than anything Germany was saying.

"What are you looking at?" Denmark asked curiously, raising an eyebrow at his fellow Nordic. "You're just staring out of the window."

Norway gripped his pen so tightly that it cut into the flesh of his hand. Looking out of the _window_? Couldn't he see...

Well, he knew the answer to that question. Knowing that any attempt to explain would take far too long and - of course - Germany was already glaring over at their group for talking, Norway left it, his eyes and attention flickering back to Canada.

The North American nation was poring over his notes, bullet-pointing things in the margins. His pale fingers gripped the pencil in his right hand, before pressing the tip of the lead to the paper. A few letters, before a pause. A new sentence.

Then Canada looked up, his violet eyes meeting Norway's own. He offered the Norwegian a small, shy smile, and Norway nodded in return.

Just a small acknowledgement, but if he did what he wanted to do (which was jump over the damn table and kiss the Canadian senseless) then he could probably say goodbye to any chance of getting Canada to say yes to one tiny insignificant date.

So he forced his eyes back down to his notes, glaze flickering to the clocks on the wall to check the time every five seconds. They would break for an hour in fifteen minutes and it would be then that Norway would-

Time must have passed more quickly than he realised, as the next thing he realised was the harmony of scraping chairs, and the sudden volume increase.

Denmark gave Norway another odd look, before clapping him on the shoulder. "I'll wait for ya out on the corridor, okay?" he grinned brightly, ignoring the dark glare he was given.

Norway's stone cold gaze followed Denmark out of the door, before he flexed his tense knuckles and got to his feet.

There was only one other person left in the meeting room. Canada was looking at Norway with a mixture of confusion and wonderment, his polar bear slipping off his lap and scampering off into the corridor.

The door swung closed. Norway swallowed his fear, and gave the younger nation a small but warm smile.

"How are you?" he asked, in English tinged with his clumsy phrasing and long Norwegian vowels.

Thankfully, Canada relaxed quickly, getting to his own feet and tidying up his papers. "I'm very good thank you Norway," he responded, in that damnable quiet cute voice that made Norway want to sweep him off his feet and find a utility closet somewhere-

"Please, call me Lukas," Norway corrected quickly, before the pause became awkward. "And I am glad."

If Canada was surprised, he didn't show it. "I guess you can call me Matthew then, Lukas," Matthew smiled, hands stilling.

Matthew.

Lukas could get used to that.

"I would like that very much Matthew," Lukas let their eyes meet again, having let his more... Carnal urges calm down.

Oh but dammit he was biting his lip now!

"Well, we are friends after all," Matthew gave Lukas a half smile, and the Norwegian tried not to let his disappointment show on his face.

Lukas nodded. "I will see you after the break," he said, painfully formal and bland as always.

For a split second, Lukas thought he saw a small glimmer of sadness in Matthew's beautiful violet eyes. But then it was gone, and Norway passed it off as a hallucination.

The Canadian obviously didn't feel the same way as him. Norway could live with that. He'd have to. Somehow.

He'd made it halfway to the door when he stopped himself. What the hell was he doing? He was _Norway_ , he had been a Viking, and now he was resigning himself to the fact that the nation he'd fallen for might not feel the same way.

Dammit, Lukas wasn't going to let himself leave without at least telling the Canadian how he felt.

So he did what he'd been wanting to do for the last three hours. He turned back around, pressing one palm to the middle of the conference table and propelling himself over it, ignoring Matthew's soft squeak of surprise.

He landed a few metres in front of the Canadian, so Lukas took two large strides before grasping the lapels of Matthew's jacket and smashing their lips together.

Norway pulled away after barely a second, trying to regain both his breath and his senses. His brain seemed to have fogged up in the split second that their lips were connected, and his hands were clutching Matthew's jacket like it was a lifeline.

Then Lukas realised what he'd done, and quickly jumped away. He mumbled an apology, trying to block out that (frankly intoxicating) maple syrup scent that invaded his senses.

He left the room quickly, ignoring Denmark's incessant questions ('Why are you so red?' 'Why did you hit me?' 'Were you jerking off in there?') and trying to put Canada out of his mind.

It was easier said than done, and when they all reconvened Lukas almost tried to call in sick.

 _Almost._

Because Lukas was above such things, especially for such petty reasons. He would find a way to face the Canadian this time around.

He refused to meet Matthew's gaze when he sat down. He forced himself to not look over to where the Canadian sat - just between France and England - and preoccupied himself with glaring at America.

Norway almost didn't hear the rustle of paper. He raised an eyebrow, moving to sit on the front of his seat so he could look down at the piece of paper.

He unfolded it with two fingers, eyes taking in the neat handwriting sprawled across the slip.

 **Are you free this weekend?**

 **Mattie**

Lukas blinked. Did that mean-? He furrowed his brow and reread the note again, just to make sure.

He looked up, his eyes going straight to Canada. Matthew was already looking over, with a small nervous smile on his lips.

The happy light feeling that Lukas associated with love overtook his heart once again, and his hand was shaking as he wrote his response and slid it over across to Canada.

 **I'll always be free for you.**

 **Lukas**


	2. Chapter 2

**Heyo!**

 **This is another NorCan chapter because this ship is taking over the world (trust me. I've got a ship from zero to hero before *cough* Skitz *cough*) and also adorable factor.**

 **You can probably guess from the awkward material here that I am very much single and have never actually gone on a date. All factual inaccuracies can be blamed on my relationship status.**

 **Thanks to everyone that reviewed the last chapter (9 people? 9? THANK YOU SO MUCH!). May your maple syrup become your staple food.**

 **P.S. NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow, but I'll try to write a third chapter for this when I have spare time. Let me know what you'd like to see in a review :)**

Always For You: Pancakes Or Waffles?

Should he go dressy, or casual? A suit, or jeans and a t-shirt? Or in between? What was in between anyway?

It was official. Mattie was one hundred thousand percent screwed.

The blonde let out a high pitched whine, thumping his head against the wall. What had he let himself in for? Maple, even the mere thought of his impeding date (read: impending doom) was making his brain ache!

How was he even supposed to act even slightly normal tonight? When he couldn't even decide what to _wear_?

Canada was close to calling France for advice, before he shivered an retracted his hand. He had a clear idea of what the nation would say...

 _'Just jump 'im, mon petit Mathieu! Ohonhonhonhon-'_

No.

The Canadian thumped his head against the wall again, before glancing at his reflection.

He'd done well until he'd climbed out of the shower. Then the costume worries had begun, attacking him with claws and pitchforks.

Was a suit too much? What if Norway didn't dress up and Canada put him off or if he did and Canada changed to jeans-

Why had his self-styled 'parental figures' never taught him how to dress for a date? England had barely been around, and then France only seemed to teach Canada the ways of 'l'amour' (which was basically the trick to sleeping with each and every nation in the space of a decade).

Google could only help him so far. And now Canada was standing in front of the only full-length mirror in his house, looking up and down and back up again. Eyes searching for every tiny imperfection that Norway might notice...

This couldn't be healthy. Canada pushed a hand through his blonde hair, avoiding his curl with accustomed expertise. This wasn't healthy.

Forty minutes later found Canada standing in front of the Norwegian's front door, hand poised over the dark oak wood to knock.

Canada took a deep breath, the memory of the kiss filling his head, before he closed his eyes and knocked three times, in quick succession.

When the front door was opened, all the air was knocked out of Canada's lungs. Norway was stood on the other side of the door, no apparent emotion on his face - much like normal.

But he was wearing a suit - a flattering suit, no less - and all of Canada's worries fluttered away. He hadn't messed this up.

"Are you ready to go?"

It took Matthew a few moments to realise that he was being spoken to, and his face flushed up as he nodded.

Always the gentleman, Lukas offered Mattie his arm, which the Canadian took gratefully. He glanced at the older nation out of the corner of his eye.

He wasn't sure what was appropriate to say in this situation. He'd been on a handful of dates, sure. But this felt kind of different - well, for one thing Norway hadn't mistaken Canada for his brother ('yet...' an evil little voice said in his head). And Canada had been the one to actually ask Norway-

"Do you prefer pancakes or waffles?"

Canada looked at Norway in abject amazement that he had actually _asked that question_. "Pancakes, of course!" he replied, slightly defensively.

A flicker of a smile played at the corner of Lukas's mouth. "I was just making sure that you had good taste," he said evenly.

Well. Maybe there was more to the Norwegian than first met the eye.

After a meal where the food was divine and the company only a little worse (mainly due to the maple syrup. Maple syrup won out over any and all companions), Lukas leant backwards in his chair, regarding the Canadian over templed fingers.

Come to think of it, he hadn't accepted a date for centuries. But then again, he had pulled the first move on the Canadian.

Matthew had just been kind enough to respond.

"I had a lovely time," Mattie was saying, violet eyes lit up by the little light above their table. "Thank you."

Lukas gave him a small smile and a quiet nod, standing up and offering the Canadian a hand. "As did I," he responded slowly. "Thank you, once again."

It got a little awkward after that, but the silence soon softened into a mutual pause, during which Lukas made an mental excuse about being cold to lean in closer to the comforting warmth of Matthew.

Luckily the Canadian didn't seem to mind, wrapping his arm around Lukas's shoulders as they walked along the street.

"Lukas?"

"Hmm?"

"Pancakes or waffles for lunch next week?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again! I was prompted by a Guest reviewer named Easza to write a one shot that included obvious one sided PruCan.**

 **I cried while writing this. I ship PruCan too, so... It hurt to write this. I tried not to paint either party in a bad light, as I adore them both.**

 **But I hope you all enjoy it. It's a little more melancholy than the last two, but we're back to the fluff next time, have no fear ;).**

 **6 reviews! I love you all xxx**

Always For You: Too Late

Germany had been surprised when Prussia had insisted to attend the World Meeting that month.

Ever since his country had been dissolved, Prussia had done next to no work. As East Germany, he'd been given paperwork to do, but somehow Prussia had managed to pass it all onto his younger brother, before going back to drinking beer and binge watching ANTM.

But now... Was Prussia finally making an effort?

Germany hadn't questioned his Bruder in the end, knowing that Prussia's motives were probably something he was better off being oblivious about.

They were the first to arrive, Germany always being perfectly punctual, no matter what the occasion. As the wall had come down, Prussia was technically no longer a country, but Germany supposed that he had as much a right to be in the meeting as anyone.

All the same, he didn't trust Prussia at all, so he kept a close eye on his older brother as the other nations started to arrive.

The first change in Prussia's unnaturally quiet mood came when Austria arrived. His red eyes lit up like Christmas had come early and he shouted a few (rather offensive) words in German at the Austrian man.

Germany instantly regretted letting Prussia come.

Yet that all changed when a country Germany didn't recognise walked in. Prussia almost immediately sat up a little straighter, a smile spreading across his face.

"Who's that?" Germany asked, narrowing his eyes at the blonde, trying to place his face, at the very least trying to find his name.

Prussia scowled, but his ill temper didn't last for long. "It's Canada," he sighed. "You know, Birdie? The one that makes awesome pancakes for the awesome me?"

Germany felt a flash of recognition, if only for a moment, before he exhaled and looked around, checking the all the countries were here, so that he could start.

His eyes ran over the Baltics (standing a considerable amount away from Russia), and then America and England - arguing, as usual - before checking for Switzerland and Liechtenstein, the Italy brothers and France and Spain...

The Nordics had a new member with them today. Germany raised an eyebrow, wondering if this was the representative of Greenland, finally showing up after centuries of slacking off, before Norway put his arm around the newcomer and kissed him softly on the cheek. No, that wasn't Greenland. The main reason why Greenland never showed up was because he hated Norway. They were always at one another's throats.

Oh, yes, it was Canada! Germany nodded thoughtfully, pleased that he'd remembered the mostly invisible nation, before he turned to Prussia, ready to warn him against pulling any pranks on Hungary over the course of this meeting.

But Prussia was just staring into space, an expression halfway between shock and sadness on his normally smirking face. Germany furrowed his brow, laying a hand on Prussia's shoulder.

"Are you okay, _Bruder_?" he asked concernedly. Prussia was _never_ this quiet. " _Was ist passiert?"_

Prussia jolted suddenly, as of awakening from a deep sleep. " _Das tut mir lied..._ " he began, eyes fixed on the Nordic group.

Germany followed Prussia's gaze, watching as the group all took seats next to one another - apart from the one nation he couldn't remember the name of, who pecked Norway on the lips before walking over to sit beside America. " _Was is los Bruder?_ " he asked, looking back at his older brother.

But Prussia was gone.

Germany supposed he'd just had enough of being responsible, yet again, so he shrugged and continued the meeting, yelling for order and exhaling as England duck taped America's mouth shut.

The only one who had noticed Prussia leave was Canada, who sat for most of the meeting worrying over where and why he had gone, and why so quickly.

He'd been close friends with the German for quite some time, so why had Prussia been avoiding him so much lately? Canada tapped his pen against his teeth and sighed. It made no sense.

The Canadian glanced across the table at Norway, who was paying close attention to what Switzerland was yelling at them all (something about Peace Prizes and guns). Maybe Prussia didn't like him? Well, they were almost polar opposites.

He shook his head to himself, passing Prussia's flight off as the Germanic nation simply having to find a room big enough for his ego. He would talk to the ex-nation later, because Germany seemed to want to start the meeting, and his friend was due over to his house for pancakes and maple syrup tomorrow anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey!**

 **Again, this was a prompt. The FACE family walking in on Norway and Canada having... The sexy time.**

 **As such, this chapter is rated M, nothing too graphic but I don't sugarcoat it. Also France. France being one kinky motherfucker.**

 **This chapter is dedicated to my friend Elka, who is a much better Norway than I will ever be. Also she is the Norway of NorCan in my mind, so... Yeah. I hope this feeds your imagination.**

 **Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Everyone who reviews will get one of Japan's little pocket cameras.**

Always For You: The Boyfriend In The Kitchen

"Alfred!"

Mattie crossed his arms as he glared at his twin, raising an eyebrow in the direction of the pancakey, syrupy mess spread over the countertop. "What is this?" he asked, eyes flashing.

Alfred gave his brother a slightly guilty smile, holding his arms up in surrender. "It was Kuma... Kuma... Kuma-whatever-his-name-is."

"Seriously?" Mattie rolled his violet eyes. "Blame my bear for everything, why don't you?"

"But that's what I'm _doing_ ," whined Alfred, who didn't understand the concept of rhetorical questions. "What's wrong with a bit of mess, anyway? The only person that comes over here apart from me is Prussia... And he seems like the kind of guy that makes mess himself. So why bother getting annoyed?"

The maple syrup dropped down the cupboard. Mattie watched it steadily progress to the floor, before he looked up at his brother again.

"Well," he began slowly. "I have another guest this evening. So you'd better get cleaning."

Mattie turned to leave, but his brother held him back. "My brother has company?" Alfred asked, with a mixture of amazement and excitement. "Ooh! Who is it? Is it this mystery boyfriend of yours?"

"It's none of your business," Mattie retorted, before he gave Alfred a glance, and passed him the mop.

There was a knock at the door, and Mattie looked up from his book. He smiled when he realised who it had to be, and placed his book to one side.

Thankfully he had gotten Alfred out of the way a few hours ago. He wasn't quite ready to expose his relationship to his brother quite yet - let alone England and France.

Lukas had actually shown quite an amazing amount of trust towards his fellow Nordic family, and Mattie didn't have a problem with that, but he wasn't quite ready to endure his family's teasing quite yet.

And having Lukas arrive a couple of days early for the next meeting, due to be held in Canada, was just an excuse for Mattie to see his boyfriend and show him the sights of his land.

"Hello Mattie," Lukas said, a small smile on his face as he took his coat off, hanging it up on one of the pegs by the door. "How are you?"

"Very well, thank you," Mattie smiled, taking the Norwegian's scarf from him, before pressing a light kiss to his forehead. "How was your flight?"

Lukas propped up his suitcase by the staircase and nodded, the smile still present on his face. "It was fine, but it is nicer to be here with you."

Mattie blushed a little, and busied himself in hanging Lukas's scarf up over his coat. "It's lovely to spend time with you as well," he said quietly."

As their respective nations were on opposite sides of the globe, they didn't see one another much, if at all, outside of World Meetings. And now Lukas was here, in the flesh, standing in Mattie's hall, slightly snowy and looking absolutely adorable...

"Do you want hot chocolate?" the Canadian burst out, face tinged a little red - he wasn't really used to have license to stare unashamedly, even after a good few months of dating (and a month or so of sex, but that was besides the point).

"You're allowed to look," Lukas said, with a small smirk, brushing the lingering snow off of his shoulders, never leaving Mattie's gaze for a single second.

Matthew swallowed, before turning and walking into the kitchen, pulling two mugs out of the cupboard and spooning the right amount of hot chocolate powder into each. Lukas leant against the doorframe of the Canadian's kitchen, watching his boyfriend move around, engrossed in his chocolate making.

Lukas had been in a few relationships before - mostly ones that turned out horribly. He had been hoping, ever since he took a chance on the younger nation in the middle of the conference room, that they as a couple wouldn't end horribly and messily.

And ever since they had taken the next step in their relationship, Lukas had never wanted them to end at all. The first time he'd woken up in Mattie's arms, his back hurting in a satisfyingly painful way, he had felt safe. Incredibly safe, in a way that was indescribable.

And when Mattie's eyes flickered open, warm violet and endlessly caring, Lukas had smiled in return, finally able to say that he'd made a good decision in his long life.

One of the mugs were placed on the worksurface to Lukas's left, and Mattie smiled, an embarrassed blush still risen in his cheeks.

"I put maple syrup in it," he explained. "I hope you like it."

Lukas almost said that he would take maple syrup anytime, anywhere, but especially off Mattie's own body, but he just nodded and picked the mug up, taking a long deep sip, eyes glued to Mattie's mouth.

It had been a long journey from the airport in Quebec, and the taxi driver had been a real arsehole, complaining about how out-of-the-way Mattie's house was.

Lukas had been ready to collapse, face forward into a nice warm comfortable bed, but his mind had been changed rather quickly.

And now... Well, to put it bluntly, he wanted to be fucked into a mattress, with the Canadian national anthem blaring in the background.

Lukas put the mug to one side, striding forwards and stretching up to pull the Canadian's mouth down onto his. He barely ever took the lead now that Mattie had asserted his dominance (a dominance that turned the older nation on to no end), but at times like this, he had to.

Mattie flailed a little, obviously not expecting the sudden kiss, but relaxed quickly, arms fastening themselves around the Norwegian's waist and tongue sliding between Lukas's lips.

The Canadian pulled away for a second, a smirk glimmering on his oh-so-innocent face. "I missed you," he murmured, hand sliding up the back of Norway's shirt. "Bedroom?"

Lukas smirked a little himself, before his hand went up to tug sharply at Mattie's curl. "I'm quite fine here, thank you," he whispered into the Canadian's ear, twirling the strand of flyaway hair around one finger.

Mattie raised an eyebrow, swallowing audibly and trapping the older nation against the working surface. "You'll regret saying that later," he murmured, pressing a ring of kisses to Lukas's neck.

"I can't _believe_ it!" Alfred exclaimed, throwing up his arms as he leant against the bookcase, looking across at the two other nations in the hotel room.

Arthur took a sip of his tea. "The thing is about adulthood," the Brit began. "Is that one tends to get friends that the other siblings aren't familiar with."

"Does that mean you have friends, _Angleterre_?" Francis chuckled into his wine.

The English nation flushed a dark red colour. "I'll have you know that I have many friends, thank you!" he retorted hotly. "Such as... Ah, well..."

Francis raised an elegant eyebrow but said no more, mainly as Alfred was still ranting.

"...he made me clean up! After maple syrup! Do you know how fiddly that crap is to clean? Yeah, sure, _I_ spilt it, but _Mattie_ can still clean it... Or maybe his frickin' boyfriend can, I don't know!"

"Huh?" Arthur sat up a little straighter. "What's this about Matthew having a boyfriend?"

Francis let out a gasp and clapped his hands together. "So _that's_ why _mon petit Mathieu_ asked me about sex toys!"

"Mattie has a _boyfriend_?" Alfred's eyes widened. "No? He doesn't, I just said that because it sounded good in that sentence."

"It certainly _sounds_ like Matthew has a boyfriend," Arthur glared at Francis, crossing his arms. "Why didn't you tell me, frog? I have just as much right to know about Matthew's... Escapades as anyone!"

"The correct term is sexcapades, my dear _ros bif,_ " Francis chuckled into his wine glass. " _Mon petit lapin_ does sound rather... Infatuated with this new catch of his, in any case."

"EW!" Alfred burst out, jumping three feet into the air, shuddering at the mental images that had come into fruition. "Mattie... Mattie's _fucking someone_?"

"That's what you said, you bloody American!" Arthur spluttered, setting his teacup down as he began to lose his temper. "We're going over to Matthew's house right this minute!"

Francis didn't protest, quietly transferring a small tape recorder from his bag to his pocket, knowing that the opportunity to record his little Mathieu's French side was more than worth the trip with the angry Brit and the repulsed American.

"Yes!" Alfred yelled suddenly, punching his fist in the air. "I need to beat the living shit out of whoever's using Mattie as a fuck toy!"

Francis chuckled again and shook his head. "Mathieu will be the one... Ah, how do you ghastly Americans say it? 'Topping'..." the Frenchman shuddered. "Such disgusting words, _Amerique_... You should speak the language of love, like _moi_..."

"'Nuff of that!" Alfred protested, tugging Francis out of the door by the arm, Arthur following closely behind. "Come on! We have a asshole to deal with!"

The only thing that the Frenchman was truly occupied with were his thoughts, and how much he hoped that they would arrive at Mattie's house quickly, so that he would be able to see the best of the action.

The only car parked in Mattie's driveway was the Canadian's own, and Alfred glared at it suspiciously, kicking up snow as he tried to warm his hands up.

"Get the fucking door open!" he hissed to Arthur, who was fiddling around with two bobby pins in an attempt to pick the lock open.

"I'm going as fast as I bloody can!" Arthur scowled back, yanking at the door handle, to no avail. "Gah! Francis, get your arse out of the car and help me!"

"Of course, _Angleterre_!" Francis smiled

innocently, clipping the little recording device onto his breast pocket, ready to press 'play'. He really had to give it to the Japanese, they had excellent little cameras.

Alfred huffed, walking up behind Arthur and budging the door with his shoulder.

The door drifted open. Arthur stood up hurriedly, a pink tinge on his cheeks that wasn't completely to do with the freezing temperatures. "Ah," he said, slipping the hairpins back into his pocket.

"Well, come on then!" Alfred said, suspiciously peering into the house. There was a blue suitcase, patterned with fish, resting against the stairs.

There was a puddle of melted snow in the middle of the hall, and the three nations trailed in, taking great care not to stand in it.

Kuma... Kuma-whatever-it's-name-was plodded down the stairs, giving the three newcomers a curious look and a 'Who?', before padding through to the living room.

They all wisely ignored the little polar bear, looking around at the walls for any indication of who Mattie's lover was.

But then there was a loud cry from the kitchen. Alfred shuddered as he realised exactly what his brother was doing in there, and Francis subtly pressed 'record' on his pocket recorder.

"Oh god," Arthur's eyes widened. "Does he know how unhygienic it is to have sex in the kitchen?"

"Doesn't stop us," Alfred muttered, but for the most point he was too preoccupied with his twin. "On the count of three... One... Two... Three..."

The American pushed the door open, Francis making sure to jump in front of him so he got a clear picture.

However... Francis had not accounted for this at _all_.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL-?" Arthur yelled, looking throughly disgusted and awkwardly fascinated. How could Norway _bend_ like that...

"Uhm, Mattie, _min eskal_?" a very naked Nordic said, his normally stony face bright red. "It's... Ah..."

" _Papa_!" Mattie yelped, scrabbling around on the floor for his clothes and glasses. "Uh... It's not what it looks like!"

Francis tried to staunch his nosebleed in the sleeve of his shirt, and waved his hand, quickly moving a little closer. Hungary would love this footage.

"It's what it looks like," Norway said from his perch on the working surface, seeming to have already recovered from his embarrassment.

" _Lukas_!" Mattie hissed, tugging his jeans back on. "It's not funny!"

"He's _really old_ Mattie!" Alfred protested, looking more than a little disgusted. "You're _fucking_ an old guy! He could be your grandad!"

"Well at least I'm a hot grandad," Norway said evenly, making no gesture to cover himself up.


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm sorry this took so long. My exams bit me in the ass and then this chapter got deleted three fucking times and then I couldn't upload it and I basically rage quit three times and I feel compelled to shoot this really crappy laptop I have to write on because my stepdad doesn't like me writing.**

 **Yeah. Sorry for my small rant.**

 **Thank you to all my reviewers, especially the one that gave me this prompt!**

Always For You: The Compulsory Shotgun Talk

Lukas swallowed. Here he was. Sat in front of five nations that obviously had a bone to pick with him. And it wasn't a big bone either, it was one of the little fiddly plasticy ones that seemed to make up seventy-five percent of a fish's skeleton. The ones that always got stuck in your teeth. Right now, the metaphorical toothpick was advancing, heading right for the northern Scandinavian region.

"...so." Alfred said, giving Lukas a pointed glare as he strode back and forth along the room, making the Nordic nation gulp and shrink down slightly in his seat.

Norway fought hard to keep his outwardly impassive expression in place as he got more and more worried as to the intentions of the five nations in front of him. Anyone would be scared if they were brought in front of a panel for no discernible reason. Each nation was glaring at him like he'd killed their leaders, from Francis with a vaguely interested look upon his face, to Prussia who just looked furious. England's bushy eyebrows weren't distinguishable from his hair, they were raised so high, and Ukraine was trying to give Lukas a compassionate smile and for once completely failing.

"What," Arthur spoke up, his voice a low growl. Lukas chewed the inside of his cheek to keep from running away with his tail between his legs. "Are your intentions with Matthew?"

In hindsight, Lukas should have seen it coming. He should have seen it from the moment he sat buck naked on Matthew's kitchen counter, watching as his boyfriend adorably stuttered and tried to explain why he had a naked Nordic in his house. Alfred had been even more furious back then than he was now, his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. He should have seen the signs, and now he had no preparation for this moment, which would ultimately dictate the future of his relationship with the Canadian.

When Lukas said nothing, Gilbert rose to his feet, fuming with anger. "Arthur _said_ ," he scowled, crossing his arms. "What are your intentions with Mattie?"

" _Prusse, non_ ," Francis said quickly, laying a pacifying hand on the ex- nation's shoulder. " _Cela n'aide._ "

Gilbert looked like he would have preferred to siphon the skin off Norway's body and fashion it into a carpet, but reluctantly sat down. His evil eye didn't leave the Norwegian, however. Lukas swallowed again, the first cracks in his façade beginning to show as he sunk deeper and deeper into the cushions of the sofa. He looked along the sofa on the opposite side of the coffee table, eyes landing on each of the members of the panel in turn. He could do this. He wouldn't completely splinter under their intense gazes.

"I think," Katyusha said delicately. "We'd better say it in more simple terms. Norway, do you just like him for sex? Or do you love him?"

Lukas blanched. How was he to answer that question? It was far too early on in their relationship for serious declarations. They moved slowly up to each rung, and although the step labelled 'I love you' wasn't too far out of reach, he and Mattie weren't quite there yet. Lukas sometimes wanted to say it, in the middle of the night when he woke up with a dry throat and a thumping heart. But he never had and knew he never would until Matthew was completely ready for it.

"I... I don't know," Norway said quietly, trying not to watch the colour of Arthur's face go from red to slowly purple. "I like him."

Arthur rose to his full height, Lukas shrinking away even more. He opened his mouth, most likely to hurl abuse at the man that dared to treat his son in such a way, Francis stopping him just in time.

"It is still early days, _non_?" he reasoned, giving Ukraine a nod. "You cannot expect _l'amour_ to blossom so quickly, _mon cher Angleterre._ "

England huffed, but sat back down. Norway leant forward again, finally relaxing somewhat. At least Francis seemed to be on his side in this matter. And no one could argue with the country of love.

"Still," Alfred piped up again. "Lay one finger on Mattie, and I'll break your ribs."

"I would never do such a thing," Lukas said easily, looking dead into America's eyes, smirking inwardly at the dilation of fear he said in the blue eyes. "Not to Mattie."

"You know," Katyusha smiled. "I think Matthew is cute with him."

"Not helping," Prussia growled, looking close to manslaughter. "That isn't the point. The point is whether he accepts the Mattie is too young and too good for him."

Lukas shifted uncomfortably. He could hardly be called 'too old' for someone. He was one of the youngest Nordic countries, after all. Honestly, any nation would be too young for Mattie, except maybe Hong Kong. And the thought of Canada with Leon made him want to vomit, so he stopped thinking about anything in that vein.

But, for the sake of argument... "I know he is," Lukas tried to appear rueful, although all that occurred was the slight twitching of one corner of his mouth. "I am... Very lucky."

"Damn right you are!" Arthur almost yelled, being held back from lunging from Francis, who was growing more and more apologetic by the second.

"What's your profession?" Alfred demanded, sitting on the coffee table and waving his fist in Lukas's face. "Can you support my little brother? Can you provide a solid income?"

"Uhm, Alfred?" Ukraine asked gingerly, tapping the American on the shoulder. "...he's a nation. Just like all of us. Money isn't an issue for him, and it isn't for Matthew either."

The five nations fell silent, staring at Lukas, seemingly to intimidate him. And Lukas was successfully intimidated, all right. He squeaked quietly, before clapping a hand over his head and mentally berating himself for ever doing such a thing. He couldn't show that he could do something other than glare right now, not in front of Mattie's family. He was just embarrassing himself.

"I think," Gilbert said, after a moment of awkward silence. "You had better go."

Lukas's violet eyes met Gilbert's blood red ones, and they stared at one another, neither of them blinking or moving a muscle. That was, until, Lukas stood up, not breaking Gilbert's intense gaze, before turning on his heels and running out of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**What a quick update! Oh my I am getting better ;)**

 **Okay, so a quick note: thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! Even the two shitty ones, because honestly it just makes my story look more popular (always look on the bright side, huh?). I took this from a prompt, from a Guest reviewer whose name I can't recall (I'm so sorry). But anyway!**

 **Next chapter... Angsty one sided DenNor which which kill me to write.**

Always For You: Going Ballistic

There were many strong points to having a twin. There was always someone there, always someone to talk to on the end of the phone, and Matthew knew that Alfred stood up for him when he was ignored. However, he and America were _identical_ twins. From their noses to their hands, they were almost perfect clones of one another. The small differences were only visible to people that knew them well - even England got them mixed up on occasion.

But considering that America wasn't well liked by many nations, and got into physical fights every single meeting, Matthew was always in the firing line. For a country that was always forgotten, invisible to most, he was insanely visible as soon as anyone decided to find Alfred and beat him up. It was almost as if his twin wanted to put Canada in the firing line, Mattie mused, walking along the corridor, checking his watch again. He didn't really want to be late to this meeting, especially since it would be the first time he'd seen Norway for a while. The distance between their nations made it a little difficult to organise regular dinner dates every other weekend. Skype was truly a blessing.

"AMERICA!" someone yelled, and Canada jumped, looking around for his brother in order to push him out of harms way. Just a habit left over from the Cold War, when Russia was after America's blood, and vice versa. But America was nowhere to be seen. Mattie blinked, making to push open the door to one of the rooms (you never knew where Alfred could be hiding. For a self-proclaimed 'Hero' he had an amazing fear of confrontation). He checked behind himself, wincing when he saw Cuba running towards him at a furious pace.

Canada found himself being shoved against the wall, Cuba's furious eyes wide and a fist raised in front of Mattie's face. He realised what was happening, with a inward sigh of resignation and a mental reminder to find a first aid kit.

 _Not again._

oOo

Norway was getting jumpy. The meeting was getting closer and closer to starting, and yet Mattie's usual seat was remaining unoccupied. No one - apart from Lukas himself - seemed bothered in the slightest about the Canadian's absence. And now Denmark was poking him in the cheek again.

"Nor. Nor! Norrrrrr..."

Lukas snapped, reaching up to grab Mathias's arm and hold it still, firmly away from his face. "What is it?" he asked blankly, raising a single, uninterested eyebrow. He really couldn't be dealing with the Dane's idiocies again. Not now, when he was getting worried about someone that actually meant a lot to him, despite Sweden's ongoing bet that Norway as actually incapable of feeling any kind of positive emotion.

"I'm booooorrrrrrreeeeddddd..." Denmark whined, looking at his best friend with wide puppy dog eyes.

"And what do you want me to do about that?" Norway rolled his eyes. "I couldn't care less, Den. Leave me alone. Entertain yourself."

Denmark whined again, but Norway ignored him, going back to staring at the empty chair. He checked his watch for a fraction of a second, before looking back at the chair again. Where _was_ Mattie? He normally arrived with America, who had been on time for once.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, the door opened. Lukas perked up, watching the Canadian with wide, horrified eyes as he took in the dried blood on his shirt and face. What had his boyfriend been doing, wrestling a moose? Although he couldn't deny that was an attractive image, Mattie didn't look like he was having a good time of it. Lukas narrowed his eyes and watched Mattie intently for any sign that he was hurt in a way that didn't show itself to the naked eye.

Matthew looked up, meeting Lukas's eyes almost sheepishly. Norway crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow again, although in a more questioning than harsh way, and got only a small shake of the head and a little shrug. Lukas bit his lip and glanced at the clock. Two hours. Two hours before he would find whoever had hurt his Mattie and set his troll on them to beat them to a bloody pulp.

oOo

In the end, the search for the bully really didn't take all that long of a time. Cuba had been boasting about how he beat up America the second that the meeting went on break, Norway putting two and two together and making six. Although the Cuban could be seen as intimidating too many Lukas wasn't frightened in the slightest. An attack against Mattie was an attack against him too. And he wasn't going to stand for it.

They adjourned the meeting a little late, by which time Norway's knee was jumping up and down. He hung back, however, continuing to ignore Denmark. He disregarded Matthew's confused look, giving him what he considered a warm smile, before following the Cuban nation into the corridor. The North American walked along the hall, Lukas following closely behind, eyes narrowed. As soon as they were far enough for everyone as to not get interrupted, Norway sprang.

Using his very much there but seldom seen strength, Norway shoved the North American nation into a broom closet, before pushing him over. "What did you think you were doing?" Lukas spat in the nation's face. "That wasn't America, you idiot!"

"What do you mean?" Cuba asked, eyes wide in confusion. "It was America, I know it-"

Norway punched him, hard on the arm. "It was Canada, you bastard!"

"But it-" Cuba was cut off by a punch to his jaw. He let out a howl of pain. "Okay! I'm sorry! I'll make sure to check that it's America next time!"

Norway smirked menacingly, pressing the toe of his shoe to Cuba's stomach. "But that wasn't the first time, was it?" he growled, kicking Cuba in the gut.

"I always apologised though! Mattie doesn't-"

Lukas looked down at Cuba, reminded of the blood on his boyfriend's face, and the long-resigned look in his violet eyes. "He does mind, and you fucking know it!" he hissed. "He's just too nice to make a fuss!"

"What do you know about Mattie?" Cuba glared up, retching as Lukas shoved a foot into his stomach again. "Oh-okay, I'll... I won't do it again, just _stop it!_!"

"If you _ever_ do it again, I _will_ kill you, you understand?" Norway snarled, as he begrudgingly stepped away.

Cuba finally stopped protesting, limply lying there on the floor, staring up at Norway in complete terror. "I promise I'll never mistake him for America again, just don't kill me!"

"What an idiot," Lukas muttered to himself, walking away from the nation on the floor. "A pathetic excuse for a nation."

He didn't pause with the idiot any longer, preferring to move onto more pressing matters. Like the way that Matthew was openly staring at him, looking like he was caught between hero worship and stepping in to break the fight up. Norway smiled, glancing back at Cuba (who was struggling to his feet) before quickly kissing his boyfriend on the lips. "Come on," he murmured, grabbing Mattie by the hand. "Lets go get lunch."


End file.
